[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
amount of plot-shifting; he had hammed up his madness so much he had to be
sent on a cruise to calm him down.
I passed a table populated entirely by rabbits.
'Waiter!' called one of them, thumping his rear paw to get attention. 'More
dandelion leaves for table eight, if you please, sir!'
'Good evening, Miss Next.'
It was the Bradshaws; I was glad to see that they had not been swayed by
convention Mrs Bradshaw had decided to attend after all.
'Good evening, Commander, good evening, Mrs Bradshaw nice dress you're
wearing.'
'Do you think so?' asked Mrs Bradshaw slightly nervously. 'Trafford wanted me
to wear something full length but I think this little Coco Chanel cocktail
number is rather fetching, don't you?'
'Black suits your eyes,' I told her, and she smiled demurely.
'I've got the thing you wanted me to keep for you,' whispered Bradshaw under
his breath. 'Appreciate a girl who knows how to delegate say the word and
it's yours!'
'I'm waiting for the announcement of UltraWord"!,' I hissed. 'Tweed is on my
back; don't let him get it no matter what!'
'Don't worry your little head about that
,' he said, nodding towards Mrs Bradshaw. 'The memsahib's in the loop she
may look a delicate thing but by St George she's a fearful lass when riled.'
He gave me a wink and I moved on, heart pounding. I hoped the nervousness
didn't show. Heep was on the stage but Legree had taken his place and was
keeping a surreptitious eye on me from seven hundred tables away. The temporal
field displacement technology worked in his favour every table was next to
every other one.
All of a sudden there was a strong smell of beer.
'Miss Next!'
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Jasper Fforde - Thursday Next 03 - The Well of Lost Plots
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'Sir John, good evening.'
Falstaff looked me up and down. I didn't wear a dress that often and I crossed
my arms defensively.
'Resplendent, my dear, resplendent!' he exclaimed, pretending to be something
of an expert.
'Thank you.'
Usually I avoided Falstaff, but if I was being watched it made sense to talk
to as many people as possible;
if Tweed and TGC thought I could throw a spanner in the works I would not help
them by drawing attention to my genuine confederates.
'I know of a side room, Mistress Next, a small place of an acquainting manner
a niche d amour
. What say you and I retire to that place where you might learn how I came by
the name "Falstaff".'
'Another time.'
'Really?' he asked, surprised by my albeit accidental acquiescence.
'No, not really, Sir John,' I said hurriedly.
'Phew!' he said, mopping his brow. 'It would not be half the sport if you were
to lie with me resistance, Mistress Next, is rich allurement indeed!'
'If resistance is all you seek,' I told him, smiling, 'then you will never
have a keener woman to woo!'
'I'll drink to that!'
He laughed heartily the word might have been coined for him.
'I have to leave you, Sir John. No more than a gallon of beer an hour,
remember?'
I patted his large tum, which was as hard and unyielding as a beer barrel.
'On my word!' he replied, wiping the beer froth from his beard.
I reached the Jurisfiction table. Beatrice and Benedict were arguing, as
usual.
'Ah!' said Benedict as soon as I sat down. ' 'Tis beauty that dost oft make
women proud, but God he knows Beatrice's share thereof is small!'
'How so?' replied Beatrice. 'That face of yours that hungry cannibals would
not have touch'd!'
'Have either of you seen the Bellman?' I asked.
They said they hadn't and I left them to their arguing as Foyle sat down next
to me. I had seen him at
Norland Park from time to time. He was Jurisfiction, too.
'Hello,' he said, 'we haven't been introduced. Gully Foyle is my name, terra
is my nation; deep space is my dwelling place and death's my destination I
police Science Fiction.'
I shook his hand.
'Thursday Next,' I replied. 'From Swindon. How are you liking the awards?'
'Pretty good,' he returned. 'I was disappointed that Hamlet won the
"Shakespearean Character You'd Most
Like to Slap" award my money was on Othello.'
'Well,' I replied, 'Othello won "Dopiest Shakespearean Lead" and they don't
like them to win more than one each.'
'Is that how it works?' he mused. 'The voting system makes no sense to me.'
'They say you'll be partnered at Jurisfiction with Emperor Zhark,' I said,
more by way of conversation than anything else.
'I hope not,' replied Foyle. 'We've been trying to raise the intellectual and
philosophical status of Science
Fiction for some time now; people like him don't help the cause one iota.'
'Why's that?'
file:///G|/Program%20Files/eMule/Incoming/Ja...Well%20Of%20Lost%20Plots%20(v1.
1%20htm).html (196 of 212) [10/15/2004 12:52:29 AM]
Jasper Fforde - Thursday Next 03 - The Well of Lost Plots
'Well,' said Foyle, 'how can I put it? Zhark belongs to what we describe as
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"Lesser Science Fiction" or
"Winsome" or maybe even "Classic".'
'How about "crap"?'
'Yes, I'm afraid so.'
There was a burst of applause as the MC announced the next award.
'Ladies, gentlemen and things,' he declared, 'we had asked Dorothy to present
the next award but she was, sadly, kidnapped by flying monkeys just before the
show. I will therefore read the nominations myself
The MC sighed. Dorothy's absence was just the latest in a number of small
problems that usually interrupted the smooth running of the show. Earlier,
Rumplestiltskin had gone berserk and attacked someone who guessed his name,
Mary Elliot from
Persuasion had declared herself 'too unwell' to collect the 'Most Tiresome
Austen Character' award, and Boo Radley couldn't be persuaded to come out of
his dressing room.
'So,' continued the MC, 'the nominations for the "Best Dead Person in Fiction"
award are as follows.' He looked at the back of the envelope. 'First [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl karpacz24.htw.pl
amount of plot-shifting; he had hammed up his madness so much he had to be
sent on a cruise to calm him down.
I passed a table populated entirely by rabbits.
'Waiter!' called one of them, thumping his rear paw to get attention. 'More
dandelion leaves for table eight, if you please, sir!'
'Good evening, Miss Next.'
It was the Bradshaws; I was glad to see that they had not been swayed by
convention Mrs Bradshaw had decided to attend after all.
'Good evening, Commander, good evening, Mrs Bradshaw nice dress you're
wearing.'
'Do you think so?' asked Mrs Bradshaw slightly nervously. 'Trafford wanted me
to wear something full length but I think this little Coco Chanel cocktail
number is rather fetching, don't you?'
'Black suits your eyes,' I told her, and she smiled demurely.
'I've got the thing you wanted me to keep for you,' whispered Bradshaw under
his breath. 'Appreciate a girl who knows how to delegate say the word and
it's yours!'
'I'm waiting for the announcement of UltraWord"!,' I hissed. 'Tweed is on my
back; don't let him get it no matter what!'
'Don't worry your little head about that
,' he said, nodding towards Mrs Bradshaw. 'The memsahib's in the loop she
may look a delicate thing but by St George she's a fearful lass when riled.'
He gave me a wink and I moved on, heart pounding. I hoped the nervousness
didn't show. Heep was on the stage but Legree had taken his place and was
keeping a surreptitious eye on me from seven hundred tables away. The temporal
field displacement technology worked in his favour every table was next to
every other one.
All of a sudden there was a strong smell of beer.
'Miss Next!'
file:///G|/Program%20Files/eMule/Incoming/Ja...Well%20Of%20Lost%20Plots%20(v1.
1%20htm).html (195 of 212) [10/15/2004 12:52:29 AM]
Jasper Fforde - Thursday Next 03 - The Well of Lost Plots
Page 194
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
'Sir John, good evening.'
Falstaff looked me up and down. I didn't wear a dress that often and I crossed
my arms defensively.
'Resplendent, my dear, resplendent!' he exclaimed, pretending to be something
of an expert.
'Thank you.'
Usually I avoided Falstaff, but if I was being watched it made sense to talk
to as many people as possible;
if Tweed and TGC thought I could throw a spanner in the works I would not help
them by drawing attention to my genuine confederates.
'I know of a side room, Mistress Next, a small place of an acquainting manner
a niche d amour
. What say you and I retire to that place where you might learn how I came by
the name "Falstaff".'
'Another time.'
'Really?' he asked, surprised by my albeit accidental acquiescence.
'No, not really, Sir John,' I said hurriedly.
'Phew!' he said, mopping his brow. 'It would not be half the sport if you were
to lie with me resistance, Mistress Next, is rich allurement indeed!'
'If resistance is all you seek,' I told him, smiling, 'then you will never
have a keener woman to woo!'
'I'll drink to that!'
He laughed heartily the word might have been coined for him.
'I have to leave you, Sir John. No more than a gallon of beer an hour,
remember?'
I patted his large tum, which was as hard and unyielding as a beer barrel.
'On my word!' he replied, wiping the beer froth from his beard.
I reached the Jurisfiction table. Beatrice and Benedict were arguing, as
usual.
'Ah!' said Benedict as soon as I sat down. ' 'Tis beauty that dost oft make
women proud, but God he knows Beatrice's share thereof is small!'
'How so?' replied Beatrice. 'That face of yours that hungry cannibals would
not have touch'd!'
'Have either of you seen the Bellman?' I asked.
They said they hadn't and I left them to their arguing as Foyle sat down next
to me. I had seen him at
Norland Park from time to time. He was Jurisfiction, too.
'Hello,' he said, 'we haven't been introduced. Gully Foyle is my name, terra
is my nation; deep space is my dwelling place and death's my destination I
police Science Fiction.'
I shook his hand.
'Thursday Next,' I replied. 'From Swindon. How are you liking the awards?'
'Pretty good,' he returned. 'I was disappointed that Hamlet won the
"Shakespearean Character You'd Most
Like to Slap" award my money was on Othello.'
'Well,' I replied, 'Othello won "Dopiest Shakespearean Lead" and they don't
like them to win more than one each.'
'Is that how it works?' he mused. 'The voting system makes no sense to me.'
'They say you'll be partnered at Jurisfiction with Emperor Zhark,' I said,
more by way of conversation than anything else.
'I hope not,' replied Foyle. 'We've been trying to raise the intellectual and
philosophical status of Science
Fiction for some time now; people like him don't help the cause one iota.'
'Why's that?'
file:///G|/Program%20Files/eMule/Incoming/Ja...Well%20Of%20Lost%20Plots%20(v1.
1%20htm).html (196 of 212) [10/15/2004 12:52:29 AM]
Jasper Fforde - Thursday Next 03 - The Well of Lost Plots
'Well,' said Foyle, 'how can I put it? Zhark belongs to what we describe as
Page 195
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
"Lesser Science Fiction" or
"Winsome" or maybe even "Classic".'
'How about "crap"?'
'Yes, I'm afraid so.'
There was a burst of applause as the MC announced the next award.
'Ladies, gentlemen and things,' he declared, 'we had asked Dorothy to present
the next award but she was, sadly, kidnapped by flying monkeys just before the
show. I will therefore read the nominations myself
The MC sighed. Dorothy's absence was just the latest in a number of small
problems that usually interrupted the smooth running of the show. Earlier,
Rumplestiltskin had gone berserk and attacked someone who guessed his name,
Mary Elliot from
Persuasion had declared herself 'too unwell' to collect the 'Most Tiresome
Austen Character' award, and Boo Radley couldn't be persuaded to come out of
his dressing room.
'So,' continued the MC, 'the nominations for the "Best Dead Person in Fiction"
award are as follows.' He looked at the back of the envelope. 'First [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]